


Unfinished Business

by Stellagammadraconis



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Casual Sex, Co-workers, F/M, Office Sex, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 08:46:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9713969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stellagammadraconis/pseuds/Stellagammadraconis
Summary: Unfinished Business /noun/ - something that has not yet been done, dealt with or completed. Example: Will Draco and Hermione ever take care of their unfinished business?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Strictly Dramione Valentine's fest.
> 
> Thank you @mrbezendrene, @saintdionysius for your feedback, @safewordisdevilsnare for cheering me on.

**February 13, Monday, Ministry of Magic**

 

“Mr. Malfoy, a word please?”    
“Mr. Malfoy, we'd like to ask you about…”   
  


Draco Malfoy dodged the reporters who were lined up along the entrance of the Ministry of Magic, hoping to sink their teeth into some juicy bits pertaining to the Malfoy family.    
  


“Mr. Malfoy, if you please…” one cheeky reporter called out as he pushed his way into the crowd in order to stand beside the unexpected hero of the Second Wizarding War. Draco pushed forward, trying to ignore the neophyte who reminded him of the late Colin Creevey in Hogwarts.  _ If only they allowed apparating inside the Ministry _ , he thought. 

  
“Mr. Malfoy, I just wanted to ask your opinion about Ms. Granger's…”

  
“Ms. Granger and I have no involvement.” he replied curtly, cutting the journalist off. 

  
“... recent engagement to Adrian Pucey…”

_   
_ _ Wait. What? _ Draco halted abruptly as he felt blood draining from his face.  _ Hermione and Adrian Pucey… engaged?   _ He felt  his heart race and he nervously reached up to loosen his tie.

 

“All right, everybody, break it up!” 

 

Draco sighed in relief when he heard none other than the  _ Weasel _ shout at the reporters. One by one, the reporters started moving out of sight, scared that the ginger Auror might cast an  _ oppugno _ at them as he had with a group of reporters who harassed  _ the boy who lived _ . When the last of the reporters had left, Ronald Bilius Weasley, his partner-in-crime at the Ministry's Auror Division, approached him and patted his shoulder. 

 

“I take it you've heard.”

 

Draco started to walk away, ignoring the redhead who had just saved him from the swarm of bloodthirsty reporters. 

 

“Malfoy…”

 

“What? Are you like one of those bloody reporters who won't leave me alone, too?” 

 

“Easy, Mate!” Ron Weasley said, raising his hands in mock surrender. 

 

Just then, they were interrupted by a pair who were going the same way they were. Draco groaned. Of all the people he had to come across today, it had to be the golden girl of Gryffindor and her  _ fiance’ _ . 

 

When the Deputy Head of the International Magical Office of Law saw him, she stopped dead in her tracks and took a sharp intake of breath. “Malfoy…” she greeted tersely. 

 

He cracked. 

 

“Tell Potter I called in sick,” the blond Auror said,  his chest already tightening, creeping closer to hyperventilation,  as he sprinted to the nearest fireplace and  _ flooed  _ out of the Ministry. 

 

***

 

_ I can't believe she's moved on,  _ Draco thought to himself while he poured Firewhiskey into his glass.  _ And with that wanker Pucey, too. I just can’t believe I used to want to be like him.  _

 

It was eight-forty in the morning, and he had the entire Leaky Cauldron to himself. He sat at the corner table, away from the view of gossipmongers and reporters. _It wouldn’t be good to tarnish the Malfoy name any more than it already is_ , he thought as he took a sip from his glass of Ogden’s Finest. _This scene is getting old_. He'd drowned his sorrows more times than he could count since she ended their relationship six months ago. The buzz got fainter each time. He just couldn’t seem to dull the ache. _Their relationship. They - Hermione and Draco_. He laughed bitterly. 

 

_ It started out as casual sex on Valentine’s Day three years ago, when they were both on Ministry assignment in Rome. On the eve of Valentine’s, he remembered having drinks with her at a local bar to drown her sorrows after she’d just broken up with Adrian Pucey. They were having tequila shots one moment, and body shots with their clothes strewn all over her hotel room the next. They blamed the alcohol for their temporary lack of judgement.  _ _ The truth was, it wasn't just the alcohol. You don't see someone for almost every day for almost seventeen years of your life and not notice things. Not feel things. But he was Draco Malfoy and she was Hermione Granger  _ _ and they agreed not to do it again nor tell any of their friends about it.  _

 

_ Two weeks since their tryst, Hermione had successfully avoided him at the Ministry. She dodged his attempts at starting a conversation, and it was driving him mad. She was always a step ahead, he'd give her that, but he was still a Slytherin. After bribing Hermione's secretary with lunch, flowers and a heavy make out session, he managed to get an appointment with the evasive witch for Friday at 3pm.  _

 

_ “Ms. Granger, your next appointment is here,” Hermione heard her secretary call out. The brains behind the golden trio frowned. She was so sure she had no other meetings that afternoon.  _

 

_ “Send them in, Melissa” she told her secretary, as she proceeded to write her weekly report to Kingsley. A few minutes later, she heard the door shut along with a few complex locking spells being casted. Hermione suddenly straightened and groaned silently. “Malfoy…” _

 

_ “Granger.” The handsome blond nodded, as he slowly made his way to her.  _

 

_ His brown-eyed peer tried her best to look composed, even as she felt her heart pound as the blond Auror approached. “How may I help you?”  _

 

_ He smirked at her attempt to keep things under control. “Actually, I wanted to ask why you’ve been avoiding me,” he drawled.  _

 

_ “I wasn't -” _

 

_ “Really? That's funny,” he said, walking around her office table to where she was seated. “I could've sworn you deliberately sat near the door of the conference rooms when we meet instead of at the center. You did that since we came back from Rome.” _

 

_ Hermione fidgeted. “You're imagining things, Malfoy!” _

 

_ “Damn right I am,” he said, yanking her off her seat and pushing her on top of the table face down, his crotch pressed against her firm bottom. “Do you want to know what I've been imagining all day, Granger? Can you feel it?” _

 

_ She whimpered. “Malfoy…” _

 

_ “I've been replaying that night in Rome over and over, Granger,” he whispered huskily as he leaned over and nipped the shell of her ear. “I wanted to know if you do too, but you've been avoiding me.” _

 

_ “Malfoy, I -” she gasped when she felt him grind against her. “Malfoy, please.” _

 

_ “Please what, Granger?” _

 

_ “Please fuck me!”  _

 

_ Draco grinned. “As you wish.” _

 

_ They cancelled all their weekend plans with friends and family after that.  _

 

_ The days turned into weeks, and their relationship had gone from shagging at the office to shagging on her bed or, sometimes, his. Draco went from redressing immediately after they’d come down from their highs to lingering beside her as she laid sometimes tired, or passed out, from their intimacy. When they started talking about their hobbies and interests while they were lying in bed, almost a year since they’d started their affair, Draco and Hermione knew they weren’t ‘just shagging’ anymore.  _

 

“Knut for your thoughts, Ferret?”

 

Draco winced and dismissed all the previous thoughts of his former flame from his head. That voice could only belong to one Harry James Potter, Head Auror and his direct supervisor. 

 

“Potter...” he said, nervously. 

 

“I should be terminating you for running off and drinking when you’re supposed to be working on a new case,” the savior of the Wizarding world told him as he signaled the bartender to bring him a glass. “However, Kingsley said you could use the day off to regroup and thought it’d be a good idea for Ron and I to join you.”

 

“You mean Weasel’s here?” 

 

“Like you have to ask, partner,” Ron said, patting his shoulder from behind while he made his way to the seat next to the blond Auror. “So, what’s got you drinking this early?”

 

“None of your business,” he muttered before downing his glass of Firewhiskey. 

 

“On the contrary, where my best friend and one of my direct reports are concerned, it is,” Harry said sternly before he took a sip from his glass. 

 

Draco rolled his eyes. “It’s over,” he simply uttered. “It has been for a while.”

 

“We know, Malfoy,” Ron said, to Draco’s surprise. “We’ve known since the start. You guys haven’t exactly been very discreet. We weren’t excited about it, but we’ve never seen her so happy, so we just let you both be.”

 

“Was she?” the Slytherin inquired, thoughtfully.

 

“We'd never seen her smile the way she did when you were together,” Harry responded before he glanced at his subordinate, who was currently looking at his glass pensively. “You love her.”

 

Draco blinked a couple of times and took a deep breath before he looked at his two companions. These were two of the most prejudiced people he knew, yet they never said a word, nor treated him badly, when they'd found out about the affair. They were her best friends, and they deserved to know. He sighed. 

 

“I can't imagine the day I won't.”

 

***

 

Hermione Granger shook her head furiously as she scribbled mindlessly in her notebook during her meeting with the Minister. She usually looked forward to her weekly meetings with Kingsley, as it gave her a chance to showcase her team's accomplishments; today however, she thought she should've just called in sick. 

 

“Hermione?”

 

Kingsley Shacklebolt’s baritone voice shook the curly-haired brunette out of her thoughts.

 

“Yes, Minister?” 

 

“Are you alright?” he asked, looking at the young woman he fought alongside during the war. 

 

“Of course, I am,” she lied, as she started arranging her things so she could leave his office. “If there is nothing else, Kingsley, I'd like to take my leave.”

 

He nodded at her to signify that she was free to go. She wasted no time hurrying out the door, into the safety of her own office. It was February 13th - the day before her affair with one Draco Malfoy started. She shook her head, and leaned on her desk. She had to get him off her mind. 

 

_ I shouldn’t be feeling this way _ , she thought.  _ I ended it. Draco was clearly the wrong person for me. I’ve moved on, and I’m happy with Adrian. He’s a good man.  _

 

She looked at her reflection in the mirror on her desk.  _ Do happy people convince themselves all the time that they’re exactly that? _ She felt restless, like her heart wasn’t agreeing with her head.  _ This has got to stop! _

 

It was three-thirty in the afternoon, and she’d promised Adrian that she’d meet him for tea before heading back to her flat to change for tonight’s Pre-Valentine’s double date with her parents. Sighing, she packed her bag and left for Mrs. Muffet’s tea shoppe, which was right across from the Leaky Cauldron. 

 

Hermione chose to walk to the tea shoppe instead of Apparating, hoping the short walk would help clear her head and maybe sort her emotions. She smiled and nodded at a few passersby who recognized her as one of the Golden Trio and stopped to talk to an elderly couple. Diagon Alley was quite busy for a Monday afternoon, she noticed. Then again, a lot of couples probably opted to go on dates today because it was difficult to book a table in any of the establishments on Valentine’s day.  _ Valentine’s day _ , Hermione thought plaintively. She used to love that special day. 

 

_ Draco surprised her with a Portkey on February 13th two years ago. They never had an official label, but they were both aware that what started out as a one-night stand the year before, had developed into something more. They didn’t give each other presents, so to say that she was surprised to see the most gorgeous ensemble neatly arranged on her bed when she arrived at her flat that day was an understatement.  _

 

_ At ten minutes to nine, Hermione looked at the mirror one last time to check if she looked decent enough. The strapless green dress that Draco chose for her complemented her brown eyes, and the silver jewelry he laid out for her made her creamy complexion glow. She could only shake her head at how he knew exactly what would look good on her. The portkey activated at exactly nine, whisking her off to where he was waiting.  _

 

_ He watched her make her way to their table in the exclusive La Perla in wizarding Rome. As expected, the place was swarming with Purebloods from all over Europe. She spotted some people from Slytherin, as well as people she’d met from Beauxbaton and Durmstrang, on romantic dinner dates with their significant others. She saw him seated at the far end of the room, by the window, which held the most spectacular view of the city, yet his eyes were only trained in her direction.  _

 

_ He stood and, with a smile, walked over to welcome her. Hermione felt her breath hitch as she watched him approach. _

 

_ “Good evening, Granger,” he drawled, extending his hand to her. _

 

_ “Malfoy,” she responded, taking his hand. “This is a surprise.” _

 

_ “Is it?” he asked haughtily, pulling her close to whisper, “You look positively shaggable in that dress. Did you follow my instructions?” _

 

_ She blushed, hoping the people in the room would think he was merely buzzing her cheek. She nodded slowly, and whispered, “I did, and I’m not wearing any knickers like you’ve asked.” _

 

_ “Excellent,” he said, helping her to  her seat.  _

 

_ Dinner was a treat for the senses. Draco indulged her in good food, exhilarating conversation, and sinful pleasures. Hermione realized that it was extremely difficult to choose what was better between the delightful creme brulee in her mouth or listening to Draco whisper a litany of all  the glorious things that he could do to her with his tongue. Flushed from coming off from her orgasm, she felt Draco plant a kiss on forehead, beaded with sweat. He left a pouch of galleons on the table before he pulled her to her feet and apparated them both back to his suite at the La Cavalier, where she eagerly returned the favour.  _

 

_ “I love you,” he said. It was midnight, and she laid in his arms, trying to catch her breath after several rounds of lovemaking. She stiffened, suddenly unsure of how to react. He looked down at where she was currently snuggled against him and laughed. “You look surprised.” _

 

_ “I am,” she said, her cheeks turning a bright shade of red. “I feel that I should say something…” _

 

_ “You don’t have to,” he said, cutting her off. He loosened his hold on her to give her a chance to move away. She threw an arm over him and snuggled tighter.  _

 

_ “I’m looking for something permanent, Malfoy,” she confessed silently. “I’m twenty-five, and I’d like to be with someone who wants to spend his entire life with me.” _

 

_ Draco coaxed her to look at him, and she shyly did. “You’re in luck, Granger. I happen to be looking for a long term commitment myself,” he said smugly as he leaned in to kiss her forehead.  _

 

_ “I’m serious, Malfoy,” she said, pushing him off her. _

 

_ “So am I, Hermione,” he said, holding her steady. “I love everything about you.” _

 

_ “Everything?” she asked. _

 

_ “Everything,” he promised.  _

 

A high pitched giggle broke her out of her reverie. Hermione looked around at where the sound was coming from. She heard it again, followed by a squeal. She rolled her eyes.  _ Who in their right mind would be fornicating outdoors at this time of day _ , she wondered. When she turned around to continue walking to Mrs. Muffet’s Tea Shoppe however, she felt her heart leap out of her chest as she came face-to-face with a giggling Astoria Greengrass being assaulted by none other than Draco Malfoy. The witch pretended to squirm as Draco latched his lips on her neck. He continued to kiss her while backing her up to lean her against a wall. The willing witch moaned shamelessly, not caring if they were in full view of the public. As Astoria took another step backward, her feet landed on a loose cobblestone. They tumbled to the ground, Draco barely managing to keep Astoria from hitting her head on the cobbled street. 

 

He winced in pain.  _ That ought to teach him not to drink more than he could handle _ , he thought. 

 

The first thing he noticed were a pair of sensible ballet flats standing a few steps away from him. He closed his eyes. This could NOT be good. He dared himself to look higher, and higher until he saw the crestfallen look upon the face of the woman he’d been brooding over a few hours back. 

 

Hermione shook her head before she disapparated out of Diagon Alley, and straight to her bedroom. 

 

***

 

_ She shouldn’t be wasting her tears on him. Draco Lucius Malfoy was despicable. _

 

Hermione didn’t know how long she’d been crying; whenever she recalled the image of him and Astoria from that afternoon, however, she felt her heart break all over again.  _ You’re supposed to be the brightest witch of your age _ , she thought. How could she have allowed herself to be fooled by him?

 

Adrian Pucey stood at her bedroom door, quietly watching his  fiancée weep over somebody else. Somebody who had always been haunting her heart and mind since they’d gotten back together last August. Somebody whom she didn’t want to talk about. Somebody whom she had been trying very hard to forget. 

 

_ Hermione was his first love. She with the fuzzy hair, buck teeth, and know-it-all attitude.  _ _ Though she was two years younger, there was something about her that captivated him. As a third year, he could never admit that he fancied a first year, but as she grew older and proved her brilliance and maturity, that gap seemed to close. _ _ He made a move when Hermione and Ron broke up two years later. It was during the wedding of his friend Marcus Flint to Luna Lovegood when he got a chance to talk to her. He was over the moon despite not knowing who William Shakespeare or Geoffrey Chaucer were, or what a DaVinci or Monet was. All that mattered to him was that she was finally within reach and he wasn't about to let her go.  _

 

Her sobs brought him back to the present. He wanted to  _ Avada  _ the person responsible for her tears. She didn't have to tell him she was in love with someone else, he already knew from the moment they'd gotten back together. 

 

_ Hermione broke up with him before she was sent on an assignment in Rome three years ago. She did it right after he proposed to her, on bended knee, in front of her parents and friends. She said that she couldn’t do it, and that she was sorry. His mind was addled — he had expected her to say yes. He heard the people around them gasp, and a minute later, she Disapparated. From the corner of his eye, he saw her two best friends do a round of ‘rock-paper-scissors’ before Harry rolled his eyes and watched the youngest Weasley son give him a mock salute before Disapparating.  _

 

_ “Mate, it’s time we had a proper chat about my best friend,” Harry said, as he helped Adrian to his feet and escorted him to a bar down the street. Adrian felt like his world collapsed that evening. He had no idea that Hermione felt “suffocated” with his constant presence, and that she’d wanted to break up with him before the proposal happened.  _

 

“Adrian?”

 

He snapped back to the present when he heard Hermione calling him. The dark haired wizard looked at his fiancee, who was now sitting on her bed, looking disheveled. He wanted to run to her and hold her tight. He wanted to tell her that he could love her more than whoever it was who broke her heart, that he could make her the happiest witch in London… but he knew better than to torture them both.

 

“I know, Hermione,” he said, reaching out to touch her tear-streaked face. “And I’m sorry for forcing myself back into your life when you’ve clearly moved on.”

 

“I'm sorry, Adrian,” she whispered, as she took off her engagement ring and he handed it back to him.

 

“I know, love,” he said, trying to hold back his tears. Her heart belonged to someone else now and he was done fighting it. He stood and rocked on his heels awkwardly. “I suppose you should tell your parents we won’t be able to make it tonight.”

 

She nodded. “Thank you, Adrian,” she said, reaching out for his hand one last time. “I wish you’ll find happiness.”

 

“I wish you the same, Hermione,” the dark haired Slytherin said, squeezing her hand gently before he gestured that he was leaving, and  _ Disapparated  _ away. 

 

Hermione called her parents to break the news to them. She was grateful they’d spared her from their questions and ‘I-told-you-sos’. After calling in a favour from Harry, she secured an International Portkey, and while still in her work clothes, grabbed her coat and purse, and left. 

***

 

Rome was the perfect place to fall in love, Draco thought as he walked along the narrow, picturesque Via Margutta in the Muggle side of town. According to the brochure he’d picked up at the International Travel Desk at the Ministry after the unfortunate incident with Astoria that afternoon, this street is where artists and art lovers are found. He had just eaten a light meal at the Osteria Margutta, where he had the  _ Baccala in umido _ , recalling  how Hermione was fond of salt cod. He chuckled while he perused the  _ Fontana delle Arti _ . Hermione would’ve loved seeing this, he thought before he realized it. He came to Rome to forget about the brains behind the Golden Trio. He had broken Hermione’s heart far too many times. 

 

_ “Are you doing anything Sunday night?” Draco heard the willowy brunette ask, as she snuggled from behind him in bed after work on a Tuesday. Since they’d come back from their rendezvous last Valentine’s, the pair had been sleeping with each other more frequently, often staying at their flats for more than a night. They were at his flat that week, and they’d once again foregone dinner in favour of other activities.  _

 

_ “I don’t think I have anything planned yet. Why?” he inquired, holding the arms that she’d wrapped around him from behind.  _

 

_ “My parents would like to have dinner with us,” she said casually, planting a kiss on his shoulder.  _

 

_ He froze. He didn’t know a thing about Muggle culture and its niceties. Besides, it was probably easier to teach her Pureblood practices than to have her teach him about Muggle ones.  _

 

_ “Draco?” _

 

_ “Actually, I just remembered that we are celebrating Mother and Father’s anniversary at the summer house in Paris this weekend,” he said. “Why don’t you come with me?” _

 

_ Hermione frowned. She was so keen on showing him off to her parents, but she seemed to have understood that his family’s affair that weekend took precedence over hers. “I promised my parents that I’d visit them this weekend,” she explained. “That’s all right though. Maybe next time?” _

 

_ Draco turned around to face her, cupped her chin and whispered, “Next time, Hermione. I promise,” before he captured her lips with his.  _

 

_ There was never a next time though, to Hermione’s disappointment, as he always found an excuse to avoid having to interact with her family or to avoid going to Muggle parts of town. On the fourth month he’d declined an invitation to her parents’ house, the Muggle-born confronted him when he apparated to her flat.  _

 

_ “Does it offend you too much to even consider stopping by for an hour?”  _

 

_ Draco sighed. Not this again, he thought. They’d gone over this week after week, one would’ve thought she’d give up on the thought. It would’ve been fine going through it again, as it always ended up in great sex afterwards, but today had been a challenging day at the Ministry for him. “Hermione -” _

 

_ “No, Draco, we are going to discuss this now,” she insisted. “I want to know what excuse you’re going to use again!” _

 

_ “All right! You want to know why I don’t want to go to your parents’ house? Because I despise everything Muggle!” he raised his voice, in an attempt to intimidate her. He immediately regretted it after seeing how it broke her. _

 

_ “I see. I’m sorry my heritage disgusts you,” she said, wiping a stray tear off her face. “Thank you for being honest, Malfoy. If you would kindly leave now, I believe we are done.” _

 

_ He left her flat in the hopes that he would be able to come back after a few days, when she’d cooled down. But he was wrong. She stopped talking to him, and even had a security detailed at her office to avoid having him barge in. She sent back his owls and made sure he saw that she threw all the flowers and candies he sent in the trash bin. A few weeks later, he saw her at the Ministry's summer ball with Adrian Pucey.  _

 

Draco continued walking along the streets of Rome. He knew he was already quite a distance away from the apartment he’d rented at Margutta 51, but Hermione always said that walking helped clear her thoughts. 

 

_ Hermione again?  _ the blond Auror asked himself, a little more disappointed at himself this time. It seemed he had fallen for his supervisor’s best friend far deeper than he had ever thought. He walked passed the Pantheon with its beautifully lighted exterior, and immediately dismissed any thought about the possibility of a certain brunette liking it. 

 

_ Get a grip. You’re Draco Malfoy. You don’t do emotions! _ he scolded himself as he walked briskly along the piazza, avoiding the pairs of lovers in his path. He had no idea where he was going or how he was going to find his way back, but he knew that he had to keep walking. 

 

Draco crossed the street to Piazza della Verita, a quaint, and dimly lit park, which had less people than the Pantheon hanging out at eleven-thirty.  _ Della Verita _ , he thought to himself. If he had just been honest about not being comfortable around Muggles, maybe things would’ve been different between him and Hermione. The handsome Pureblood walked inside the piazza, and took in the sights along the way - there was a fountain, which he knew the Muggle born witch would’ve loved taking photos of, an ancient church, which she probably would’ve given him an extensive amount of trivia about, and beneath it...

 

“Bocca della Verita,” he read out loud.

 

“The Mouth of Truth,” a familiar voice said from behind him. “I wouldn’t even try going there if I were you. Besides, it’s already closed to the Public.”

 

He felt his heart race. He prayed to Merlin he wasn’t losing his mind just yet. Turning slowly around, he saw a very unkempt looking Hermione Granger standing behind him.

 

She chuckled bitingly. “Isn’t it funny? I left London so I wouldn’t have to see you, and I came to Rome hoping you wouldn’t be here - at this Muggle piazza even - yet here you are.” 

 

“Believe me, Granger, I’m just as surprised as you,” he said, looking around to check if she had anyone with her. “Did Pucey take you to Rome as well? I knew he had no originality.”

 

“Adrian is in London,” she responded curtly. “I’m not sure what his plans are but I won’t be included in any of them moving forward.”

 

“You and him…”

 

“Are no longer an item,” she finished for him. “And I suppose we can’t be an item until I get my closure from you.”

 

“Hermione, give me a chance to do this right,” he pleaded, as he approached her. “I’m sure there’s a reason you chose to come here tonight of all nights. This is where it started, remember - this is where WE started. Right here in Rome.” 

 

“Yes, and this is where it ends too.”

 

“You can’t be serious, Granger!” he said, grabbing her arms, and pulling her close to him. 

 

“But I am,” she asked, gazing into his grey eyes. “What if I don’t want what we had anymore? What if I want to play by my terms?”

 

“Name your terms then.”

 

Hermione’s lips turned into a smirk worthy of Salazar Slytherin himself, and then glanced at her left at the  _ Bocca della Verita _ . Taking a chance at her hunch, she raised an eyebrow to appraise him. “Oh, we’re talking terms now,” she said haughtily. “You must be so desperate. Let’s go in there. I want to know you’re being truthful this time.”

 

Draco gulped. He had no idea what was in there, but he nodded and allowed her to lead the  way. He watched her enter a portico where a sculpture of what looked like an ancient god’s face stood against the wall. He saw the brunette stop in front of the huge sculpture, and look at him quizzically.

 

“Scared, Malfoy?”

 

He was taken aback by her baiting. “Never,” he said, as he approached her. 

 

“So this is the Bocca della Verita,” she told him. “Legend has it that if you put your hand inside its mouth and you don’t tell the truth, your hand will get cut off.”

 

“What kind of dark magic…”

 

“Well, you did ask what my terms were, right?” Hermione smiled, “This is one of them. Are you ready?”

 

Draco sighed.  _ Touch move, he thought _ . “Yes. Does that mouth have any preference which hand I should use?”

 

“No, just put it in,” she said, blushing at the double entendre. When the blond Auror placed his right hand in, she smiled up at him. “Draco Lucius Malfoy, I agree to give you another chance if you promise to do the following: first, I want our relationship to become public. Second, I want you to meet my family and have dinner with us at our Muggle home every Saturday. Third, I want us to go on dates in both Muggle and Magical places… Are we good so far?”

 

He felt his head spin with all the Muggle things she’d included in the list. He didn’t realize his eyes popped wide open, and his jaw was hanging.

 

“Well, Draco, did you think I hadn’t noticed how much you avoided getting in contact with anything Muggle?” she retorted. “Oh and the last on my list is, if we are ever going to marry each other, I want a ceremony that’s both Muggle and Magical. I will honor your Pureblood customs as long as you honor mine. Do you agree to these terms?”

 

Draco’s heart was beating fast. Looking back at his interactions at Via Margutta earlier, he found nothing unpleasant about how Muggles responded. If that was what the witch in front of him wanted, he knew in his heart he could give her that, and so much more. 

 

“Yes, Hermione,” he responded clearly, confident that his hand will still be intact. “I agree to your terms and everything you should add beyond tonight.”

 

Smiling, Hermione threw her arms around his neck and pulled him in for kiss. He smiled against her lips, which was desperately his, before he gave in. Merlin, he missed this witch so much. A moment later, he pulled away. 

 

“Hermione, it’s midnight,” he whispered. 

 

“Happy Valentine’s, Draco.”

 

“Happy Anniversary, my love.”

 

“Anniversary? I didn’t know we were an item,” she teased, smiling up at him

 

“To me we’ve always been an item - since our assignment in Rome, and the Valentine’s after that,” he explained, pulling her close, “So maybe we took a short break - I was an idiot, and you had a Pucey relapse; but you know what the good news is, Granger? You and I will always be unfinished business.” 

 

***

 

“Family and friends, we are all gathered here today to celebrate the union in Matrimony of Draco Lucius Malfoy and Hermione Jean Granger.”

 

Their family and friends were all gathered at the beautiful garden in between the temples of Hercules and Portunus on Valentine’s the following year. The ceremony was facilitated by a Muggle priest, and the Minister of Magic, in honor of their joint heritage. Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy sat on tiffany chairs across from Drs. Richard and Jean Granger. To say that their parents had become good friends is an understatement, as they had, on several occasions, gone on triple dates to the Opera and to different Charity balls. 

 

When they were finally presented as Man and Wife, after having been binded both in both worlds, Draco took his wife’s hand and led her to her parents. 

 

“Thank you for giving me a chance to make your daughter happy,” the Pureblood told the Muggle couple, who were currently in tears. 

 

“Welcome to the family, Draco,” Jean Granger said, giving her new son-in-law a tight hug. 

 

“Thank you, Mum,” he said, returning her hug before he turned to the tall and stocky brunette his wife called Dad. “Uh… Thank you, Da-da-da…”

 

“Bob. Just call me Bob,” the man in his fifties said, shaking Draco’s hand.

 

“And you, Hermione, can call us Mother and Father or Mum and Dad,” Narcissa injected from behind. 

 

“Call us whatever you want,” Lucius assured his new daughter-in-law.

 

“How about Grandpa?”

 

The two sets of parents squealed in delight, and Draco felt his face flush. If his Valentine’s day was always full of surprises, he decided he didn’t mind. After all, both of them knew that even beyond this life, they will always be unfinished business.

  
Fin. 


End file.
